


The end of the world, and us

by mapleprincess



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Death of a loved one, Drama, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Romance, its fun you guys, what a fun fic it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:12:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9793859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapleprincess/pseuds/mapleprincess
Summary: So quickly after its rebirth, Overwatch is destroyed once more. The few survivors of the terrible strike struggle to survive, moved by a desire for revenge, weariness, and a formidable rage to live. A Resistance is put together, but it seems so frail...





	1. On the run

The events of the day seemed like they belonged to a dream - a really, _really_ awful dream. Yet, they had happened for real, as the dull pain in her arm could testify.  
When she was fighting in her MEKA, she rarely got hurt ; the metal monster was equipped with impressive systems to protect its user as much as it could. But when she had to fend for herself only with her blaster, it was another thing entirely. It had only happened twice before, and she had hopped it'd never happen again. She felt so weak out of her armor, as if she was in an alien world. D. Va would disappear, leaving only Hana Song, whose stole reason for standing up was knowing that should she fall down, she'd never get a second chance.

"D. Va? You okay?"

Lúcio's soft voice brought her back to reality. She lifted her face from her knees ; the Brazilian musician's expression was full of kindness and worry. The young streamer had no clue how her friend was seemingly staying strong in spite of the hellish day they'd just been through.

"I'm fine, thanks."

She offered him her signature smile, the one she flashed on every poster and every picture taken with a fan. The one who shone with emptiness. But Lúcio knew her well, and saw through her lie with ease. His own smile vanishing from his face, he sat next to her.  
Before he could add a word, Hana broke into tears for the first time in months, shamefully covering her head with her shaking hands.  
Still silent, Lúcio wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and had Hana lifted her head, she would have seen the musician's cheeks were glistening with tears too.

They stayed in complete tranquillity for a while, Hana's sobbering breaking the silence from time to time.  
Suddenly, the door to their hotel room opened with deafening noise, and out of sheer reflex Hana grabbed the weapon lying to her side, pointing it to the intruder.

"Woah, calm down, mate! It's just me, good ol' Jamie, so ya can put that thing away."

To show his good faith, the Australian put his hands up. Hana shot him a dirty glance and fell back on the bed. She turned on the other side, her back facing the two other Overwatch agents.  
With a sigh, Lúcio got up from the ground his friend's moves had pushed him to.

"Jamison, please try knocking on the door next time."

Junkrat shrugged and put two bags on the room's lone bed, next to the young Korean.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll try to keep that in mind. Anyways, I got us some food, so eat up."

Hana didn't move an inch, but Lúcio inspected the bags' content with clear suspicion.

"You did _buy_ everything, right?"  
"Yeah, mate, when those cunts attacked HQ I took the time to grab me cash before runnin' away."

Junkrat rolled his eyes when the DJ gave him a disapproving look.

"Come on, pal, why does it matter? Not like they're gonna miss it. An' we need food. 'specially her."

Jamison pointed Hana with one of his mechanical fingers. She had refused to eat anything whatsoever since they'd made it to Arizona; they even had to force her to drink.

"I'm not hungry." mumbled the young woman, still not facing her partners.  
"As you wish." grumbled Junkrat, taking a pack of cookies from a bag. "I'm fuckin' hungry. No wonder, with all this bullshit."

Lúcio cast a worried glance to Hana, before helping himself.

"Thank you for getting us some food." he finally said. After all, had the Junker not taken it upon himself to get them some supplies, they would have been in quite a pinch. The owner of the seedy motel they'd taken shelter in had been pretty rude and very suspicious towards them, no need to ask him any help.

Not that Lúcio was angry with him. The man with skined burned by the sun didn't look like he ever left Arizona, and he had to admit their little trio clashed terribly with the rural surroundings. The good side was that he was almost certain no one would recognize them in this dump ; he had quickly estimated the average age of the town was around sixty, judging from the scarce passerbys and the lack of any kind of school. No way they'd recognize the face of a professional gamer or a young DJ, and Junkrat had assured him he was not wanted in Arizona - well, not that he was aware of.

They still decided to play it safe and gave false names when checking in. Jamison had taken charge of it too; he probably was used to it, and convinced the owner without too much trouble.  
During their stay, they'd be known as Shin Park, Lucas Jones and Floriano da Silva.

Lúcio was brought back to his surroundings by Hana suddenly yelling at Junkrat, abruptly stopping his babbling:

"Don't you ever shut up?!"

The two men looked at their partner. Her swolled and red eyes were filled with anger, and though she was still lying down, her body was clearly tense and ready to strike a punch.

"Hey, ya donga, I won't let ya talk to me like that!"  
"Who are you calling a donga, you bastard?"  
"Stop it, the two of you! Don't argue!"

Not used to Lúcio raising his voice, the duo immediatly stopped their bickering.

Lúcio sighed. That was the last thing they needed. As far as they knew, no one else had made it through the attack on their HQ, and if they were already starting to tear each other apart, all hope would be lost.

"We got a... tough day. All of us. And you know we're far from being done with our problems, so it's _really_ no use fighting for nothing. For now, we just need sleep."

D. Va gave Junkrat the darkest look she could, but didn't add a word. She searched in one of the bags on the bed, took a pack of potato crisps and a bottle of water from it and went to settle on the beat-up couch on the other side of the room.

"Oi-"

Lúcio put his hand on Jamison's mouth before he could start insulting her again.

"Leave her alone."

Junkrat muttered to himself before agressively putting Lúcio's hand away and going to sit down in a corner of the room. The Australian took a screwdriver from his pocket, took his leg prothesis off and started working on it, still mumbling.

Lúcio fell on the bed with a weary sigh. The forced cohabitation would be tough.

* * *

 

Soldier turned around for what seemed like the hundredth time. Or maybe it was the thousdanth time; he had stopped counting at fifty two. He was facing the door of the hotel room this time, his rifle hidden under the covers, a revolver in his hand. Well, not just iany/i revolver ; until very recently, it had belonged to someone he deeply cherished. Someone he had loved more than anyone else.  
When he held it in his hand, it was as if he could still feel the heat of Jesse McCree's hand in his own.  
But he wasn't an idiot, and knew what he felt was nothing more than sweat left by his own skin.

He had felt terribly guilty taking the weapon away from the cowboy's dead hand. But he had no choice; speed was of essence, and he wanted to keep something, anything, from McCree.  
It was a macabre ritual he had started when the first soldier under his order had fallen in battle. A strand of his hair had been enough, cut when no one was looking.  
But he hadn't got the time for McCree. He had to run fast, and far. His first thought had been to take McCree's serape, but he had immediatly given up. It was a gift from Ana, and he knew it to be the cowboy's most prized possession; ripping it away from him in death would have been like killing him a second time.  
So he had taken the gun with a rapidity that had disgusted him, and had ran away as fast as he could.

Soldier had tried to fight back, and in spite of the considerable number of attackers he had taken down, it hadn't been enough.

Angela had been the one forcing him to run away, for some reason. She had literally pushed him in the corridor leading to the exit before closing the door. He had heard a gunshot, confirming what he feared: the medic had destroyed the lock, making it impossible to open the door. Soldier had pounded on it until his knuckles bled, but no one had opened. If only he had had some rockets left to force his way...  
He had been left with no choice but to leave their base. His initial plan was to attack the enemy from the rear, but before he could even rush to the secret entrance, he understood just how pointless his attempt would be.  
Trucks were surrounding their base, without a doubt belonging to Talon, vomiting a seemingly endless amount of warriors.

For the first time in a while, Soldier had felt truly distraught and hopeless. As combative as he was, he couldn't deny his odds to kill every single opponent on his own were too close to zero for him to take the slightest risk.  
Cussing under his visor, he had sprinted to a small gap between two of the trucks. He had instantly been taken for target, but despite his age, he was still brisk and had avoided the bullets with ease. Not losing time attacking the enemy - not that he lacked the will to do so - he had run without a stop, and had only slowed down when he had been sure he had lost his pursuers. He knew the base's surroundings better than anyone, and had hidden in a bush of the forest nearby.

Only when the battle's noise had winded down he had fully realized what had just happened and had broken down. He had teared his visor away, letting the tears of rage and distress flowing freely on his scarred face.  
Clutching Jesse's gun close to his chest, he had wondered if others had fallen in battle. This unbearable and morbid thought hadn't left his mind, not matter how hard he tried to make it go away. He considered the members of his team like family, and the very idea of them passing away made him sick to his stomach.

Soldier thought he had lost too many comrades and friends for suffering this much from losing a new one, but obviously he had been wrong.  
His tears kept on flowing for a while, as if crying for McCree allowed him to cry for all those he lost before in similar attacks, and those who might have fallen on this very day.

When his cheeks had dried up, his hand had tensed around the gun. His resolve had come back with his calm.  
Whatever the price, he'd avenge Jesse. He'd make Talon pay, and he'd be sure to make them pay at full price.

His hatred had crystallized on Reaper. Except for Widowmaker, who was an empty shell of what Amélie Lacroix used to be, it was the only face he could put on Talon. Others were nothing but anonymous assassins.  
And Reaper symbolized everything he thought was wrong with this world: treason, gratuitous violence, childish and destructive conflicts.

He knew it was stupid to blame it all on his old comrade. But he didn't care.

Jack Morrison had died five years ago, and as he was just begining to come back to life, Gabriel Reyes had killed him a second time.  
From now on, there would only be Soldier 76.

He promised to himself he'd do what he never dared swear to do: kill Gabriel Reyes from his own hands.


	2. A shadow of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, friends! College has been a pain lately, especially with finals coming up.

Sombra rose from slumber far before her alarm clock woke her up. That kind of things never happened, and she usually had to set various alarms before actually getting up; and even then, until she drank her morning coffee, her thoughts remained cloudy. Widow said that it wouldn't happen if she didn't spend her nights on her screen and if she got to sleep at decent hours; but Sombra had been a morning person.  
  
But that day was special.  
Not in the good way, unfortunately; more in the sense that it might make her uneasy.  
  
To the outside world, "Sombra" was a merciless hacker ready to do anything in order to achieve her goals, and able to manipulate data as well as people, threatening and blackmailing as she pleased. Which was true, in a way; the young woman didn't regret any of her actions, as repulsive as they could get.  
  
This didn’t mean she drew any pleasure from acting the way she did. She wasn't much of a sadist, and didn't like threatening certain people; especially, she hated menacing their innocent loved ones.  
  
But the truth came at such a heavy price. What she had been working on for so long needed her to use such methods.  
Besides, Sombra had to admit she found some sort of wicked glee in being able to manipulate the powerful and the corrupted as she pleased.  
  
But that day's mission was of a completely different nature.  
It had been two weeks since Talon had destroyed Overwatch's last bastion and taken captive most of its members. Some had gone missing; they had probably run away, as the ruins had been thoroughly searched. Only two dead bodies had been found.

She had briefly known one of the victims, Jesse McCree. Their paths had crossed two years before, when they were still wandering on their own. They had sought shelter in the same village of New Mexico, and had spent some pleasant nights at the local bar around one - or several - drink(s).  
It had been the first time in a while Sombra could almost think of someone as a friend, which had greatly pleased her.  
And then, she had to run away once more. The bounty hunters looking for her never stopped, houding her endlessly. She hadn't forgotten the cowboy's charming smile and his old-fashioned look, though.

When Reaper had given her the file containing everything known about all of Overwatch's members, she hadn't been able to repress a fond and amused smile upon seeing the familiar face, half hidden by a worn hat.

The Mexican hacker had felt bile burning her throat when she had discovered the American's cold, dead body. Strangely, his cold lips were curled in a warm smile, as if death had found him in a moment of utmost felicity. Sombra had delicately closed his eyelids, making him look even more blissful.

She had attended his funeral, two days later. Talon had planned _something_ far worse with the other corpse, but thanks to Reaper's intervention McCree had been allowed a proper inhumation. Sombra knew how close the two men used to be, and that the former head of Blackwatch considered his stray boy like his son.

Gabriel and her had been the only attendees. His associate had decided to bury McCree on a Californian cliff towering above the Pacific Ocean. The place was gorgeous, located between a cave and a few trees. The meadow was of a bright green, with sparse primroses; a soft breeze swept the scenery.

McCree’s grave was pretty basic. Gabriel had dug the hole himself, which had taken a pretty long time. Sombra hadn’t said anything during the operation, settling for looking at the corpse wrapped in a sheet covered in traditional Mexican patterns. She had chosen it, with Gabriel’s approbation, as she had remembered that one night McCree had told her about his late Mexican mother. He had spoken with tenderness, keeping a fond memory of the seven years she got to spend with him. His father, an American farmer, had raised him with a mixed education resulting from the marriage of both cultures.

Once her coworker had been done digging his rudimentary hole, he had laid Jesse’s body to rest. For the first time since she’d met him, Sombra saw him taking his mask off and could look at his face. Of course, she knew what Gabriel looked like, as she had minutely examined everything she could find on his past. But seeing the tumefied flesh emitting a black smoke, and sometimes bursting in a spontaneous combustion before immediately healing up, _that_ was different. Even without counting the silent tears rolling on the bruised skin.

The young woman had helped Gabriel burying McCree’s remains. They didn’t get the time needed to have a tombstone as beautiful as they would have liked, and had to make do with what they had; a basic, granite stele on which the following had been engraved:

 “Jesse Estefan McCree  
March 29th 2039 – March 21st 2076  
May he rest in peace”

They had stayed there for a little while, before returning to their obligations. Before leaving, Gabriel had left a bouquet of white tulips. He had put his mask back on and not spoken a word to Sombra until they had come back to Talon’s headquarters.

The alarm clock’s ringing tore Sombra away from her reflexions. With a groan, Sombra shut the stupid machine down and got out of bed. As usual, she got dressed before heating some water for her morning coffee. She grabbed a cereal bar and went to the Hypernet to see what was happening around the world.

Her eyes went wide when she read the most recent national alert. Reaper was going to be _furious._

Her day was going to be a long one.

* * *

“I think they’re starting to get _really_   weary of us.”

 Junkrat grumbled, but unfortunately D. Va was right. It had been a week since they had found shelter at the Deep Waters motel, and though they tried their hardest to blend in, the news had quickly travelled around the village. The place rarely saw strangers, and when it did, it was never for more than a night. So their rather peculiar trio had been much talked about, especially since their arrival matched with the beginning of a series of thefts in various shops of the neighbouring towns. No one had been able to prove anything against them, but the townspeople’s suspicions grew bigger every day.

Lúcio and Hana had managed to earn some money, enough to rent the room but not sufficient to buy food – or less flashy clothes; which was why they had, after a long hesitation, decided to ignore Junkrat’s larcenies. The Brazilian gave dance classes to the town’s retired people, while Hana worked at the motel’s reception desk.

“We should have expected that.” admitted Lúcio as he put on some clean clothes Junkrat had brought the previous day. The young man had lead a real expedition for two days, leaving on foot with a half broken pistol and coming back in a van filled with food, necessities, clothes and even weapons. The vehicle was antique, at least made in the 2030s; but it worked, and that was all the Junker expected from it.

His two comrades hadn’t asked anything about how he had managed to find all of his spoils, and didn’t have to, the local press had done the work for them. Luckily, Jamison had thought about hiding his face, unfortunately, his peg leg was pretty recognizable.

Of course, since the news report, the entire town had grown even more suspicious towards them, and the trio had understood it was time to leave the place.

“No, I mean I heard the boss on the phone and he was calling the police.”

Two pairs of eyes immediately shifted on her. The DJ’s look was one of terror, while the explosives maniac’s seemed to shine bright.

“No, no, Jamison, we’re not looking for a fight with the police.” Lúcio warned when intercepting Junkrat’s expression of gleeful sadism.  
“You sure? ‘cause with the babies I brought, we could give them one hell of a party.”  
“Are you for real?! We’re gonna get screwed if we do this!” exclaimed Hana as she grabbed him by his Capri pants’ suspenders. “We’re not taking any risks, we can’t-”  
“We can’t ruin what Zarya did for us.” finished Lúcio, standing between the duo. “We have no choice, we gotta leave. Now.”

Junkrat tried to negociate, but his two partners didn’t weaken. Around ten minutes later, they were in their new van, D. Va driving as fast as she could.

As they left the town, they passed a police car. Thankfully, Junkrat had been careful to take the licence plate off the vehicle, which had probably been reported as stolen. He had also given the van a quick paint job during the night, trying to cover their tracks even more.

“Where are we going now?” asked D. Va after driving for around twenty minutes.  
"Dunno, there’s no map in this thing.”  
“We could drive all night long and see where we arrive tomorrow morning. We’ll be far enough from here, and we’ll decide what to do then.” offered Lúcio.

The trio remained in silence for a while, with the engine’s roar for only background noise. Unable to take it any longer, Junkrat gave in and decided to expose them an idea which had grown in his mind since the beginning of their forced exile:

"Oi, mates, what’d you say about a lil revenge? I mean, those Talon cunts took everything from us. So we should to the same!”

He ended his proposition with a maniacal laugh. From a single glance, Lúcio saw a wild fire had lit up in the Australian’s eyes, and understood he was set off again, starting one of his “outbreaks”. He lamented Roadhog’s absence; the man was the only one able to calm his employer down when he was getting too agitated.

“What do you want us to do? There’s three of us, and… hundreds of them, maybe more. It sounds a lot like a suicide.” grumbled Hana.

She was having much more difficulties than Lúcio getting used to Jamison’s company. The young man excelled in infuriating her, and their points of view often diverged completely. In particular, she had gotten extremely mad at him once when he had started insulting Zenyatta, insinuating the Omniac might have sold them out to Talon.

“Why the fuck should we care that it’s suicide? What’s to loose? I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life runnin’ and hidin’. Not my style.”

Hana brutally braked.

“What do you mean, we have nothing to loose? We’re lucky to be alive! And Zarya-”  
“ _We don’t give a fuck about Zarya_! They might have done her out for all we know! And as you said, we’re alive, so we can-”

He was abruptly interrupted by a hard slap on the cheek, courtesy of the Korean, whose dark eyes burnt with anger so intense even Lúcio didn’t really felt like stopping her.

“You’re a filthy egoist, Jamison! How can you say such things?!”  
“Who are you callin’ an egoist? You’re the egoist! You wanna spend the rest of your life in fear? Or try to do somethin’ stupid but brave?”  
“Since when do you care about being brave? The only thing you want is to do your stupid suicide mission! You know what, go die if you want, and do as many explosions as you like!”

Hana had screamed louder than she would have wanted, and her words had been harsher than intended, but for the moment she didn’t care. Her breathing had sped up, and she kept her intense gaze on Junkrat. The blonde seemed very close to flat out strangle her, but he settled on opening the door and leaving the van.

“Seriously…” mumbled Lúcio, following him. “Hana, wait here please.”

D. Va didn’t answer, but her friend knew she’d never leave without him. He started to run after Junkrat, running faster than the blonde walked.

“Hey, hey Jamison, wait! Come back, you-”  
“I can take care of myself, I’ve done that for all my fuckin’ life.”

Junkrat didn’t even deign to look at him. Lúcio didn’t five up ; he knew how stubborn the young man could get when he wanted to.

“It’d be a pity if you left now… we have to stay united."  
“Oh yeah, and why would I stay united with the other pansy?”

Lúcio saw red, but he forced himself to keep a diplomatic tone.

“Jamison, please, don’t speak of Hana like that. She’s not a coward, and she might even be the bravest of us. She left everything behind to defend her country.”

Junkrat didn’t slow down, but that didn’t stop Lúcio from following him.

“I’m not against your idea of a vengeance, but… not like that. Not just the three of us with guns and grenades.”

Jamison stopped in his tracks, his suddenly inquisitive gaze turning on Lúcio.

* * *

Soldier raised the radio’s volume to the max. He wasn’t really a big fan of techno music, but it was the only frequency he could pick up, and he needed a background sound. Music had always helped him focusing, no matter what he was listening to- okay, maybe not when Reinhardt blasted his collection of David Hasselhoff’s greatest hits.

The main reason he had put some music on, though, was that it helped keeping his thoughts focused on his plan. The intrusive thoughts he could have were drowned out by the decibels, and that was all he needed. What he was preparing was rather risky, and could end up badly for him if he didn’t handle the situation well.

He had decided to scout allies in his crusade against Talon. He wasn’t an idiot, and knew he couldn’t do anything against the organization on his own.

But with all of his old allies captures or, he hoped, on the run, his options were more than restricted. However, an odd and crazy idea had struck him as he was contemplated McCree’s Peacemaker on a night sleep just wouldn’t come. An idea he was far from enjoying, but he had got another and yearned to get back on the game.

Especially since during the early hours of the morning, a nationwide alert had been broadcasted on the Hypernet. The text was illustrated with two pictures of him, and stated that “the man known as Soldier 76 is a dangerous terrorist, wanted dead or alive”. An amazing reward was promised in exchange of his capture and delivery to the American authorties. The old soldier had been surprised that the message didn’t reveal his real name or pictures of him without his mask.

He understood that time was of essence, and that if he wanted to get even the slightest shot at taking Talon down, he had to hurry.


End file.
